


Mind Of A Monarch

by Echoh



Category: Project Wingman (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Legion's here too, Life's a bitch, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echoh/pseuds/Echoh
Summary: With the Cascadian Independence War surging toward its conclusion, Hitman's Crew Chief Robin Kuo does what she does best. All the while, the rest of Sicario do their best to not get swept away by the tides. Some manage better than others.
Relationships: Monarch/Prez
Kudos: 5





	Mind Of A Monarch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Prez, Monarch, Comic, nor F/D-14, SK.37, F/C-15. The only thing within these words I can even attempt to claim ownership of is the name Grimmalkin, and only in the sense that it is my idea of the fighter name for Project Wingman's F/D-14 interceptor. Oh, there is also a little cameo of a character that isn't mine either, though the members of the PW official discord will know who it is. Luzaitus, that's you, buddy. Thanks for letting me drop her in.
> 
> "Speech"
> 
> 'Thoughts' - italics
> 
> "Flashback Speech" - italics

"I swear, sometimes I _wish_ Monarch would take Grimm here so I can tag along… I hate being stuck at base. Makes me feel like some common housewife waiting for her spouse to come home from work…"

Sicario Crew Chief Robin Kuo, callsign "Prez", was currently crouched under the belly of her front-seater's F/D-14 Grimmalkin. She found herself shocked to be longing for the missions where she had the _ever-so-desired_ position of Hitman 1's WSO. A position which, she knew, she only had because she was the only person in Sicario that could stay conscious while in the cockpit with their ace pilot.

' _Even if I did start out spending most of the time sucked into the back of my ejection seat. It's always been a struggle to keep up with my mostly-silent flight leader's insane maneuvers. All the while I still have to call out targets and try not to scream at the top of my lungs as I hold on for dear life.'_

Shaking her head some with a wry smile on her face, she crawled out from beneath the aircraft to look over its battle damage. Anyone with working eyes could see the amount of weld work that had been done to fix the fuselage's integrity. There had been so many holes in the hull from being riddled with cannon fire; Prez couldn't help but wonder how the two of them made it back alive that day. The engines still weren't in the working order they needed to be for combat sortie, hence Prez's staying at base while Monarch, Hitman 1, flew out to Prospero in the SK.37 they had recently acquired.

Taking a moment to look out of the hangar doors at Rowsdower, Prez felt the wistful sigh fall from her lips before she heard it. She supposed being Monarch's WSO wasn't all that bad; he was a _deadly efficient_ pilot, after all. Flying with him definitely made for a good payday for her, and by extension, her family across the pond as well.

Work for Sicario certainly had its ups and downs, though, and trying to fix up Monarch's planes after his sorties was most definitely **not** an upside.

She swore as she took a glance back at the Grimmalkin in the hangar. For as efficient of a pilot he was, he was awfully damned reckless at times. It was times like this that she was grateful to the fact that Sicario paid for all repairs and upkeep on their aircraft and equipment. Paying for the kind of repairs Monarch's planes needed would have easily drained her of the scratch flying with him provided.

Aside from the insane flight maneuvers and great paydays, though, she really didn't know much about Monarch. No one did, save for maybe Kaiser. He always seemed to be an outlier among Sicario; hell, even within the four members of Hitman, he never really seemed to fit, like a puzzle piece that was _just slightly_ misshapen enough to not fit the way it should.

For instance, she knew he would eat with them all, but he never spoke up; he never joined in the banter between Dip and Comic, or anyone for that matter. Any time someone spoke to him, he only either grumbled, nodded, or shook his head in response.

Even being bunked with him, (Kaiser always said, "I don't give a flying fuck where you sleep as long as you're combat capable."), Prez barely interacted with their enigmatic flight lead. That was, of course, if he was even on base. Of the three members of Hitman, Monarch had the most flight time during this contract; of that, Prez was nearly certain. His constant stream of assignments appeared to be wearing on him, as well.

Within the confines of their room, he began lowering his guard. Even if that only entailed speaking at night, when most everyone else was either asleep or off base. Prez could have sworn the only reason she'd hear him speak then was that he felt she was asleep. She had always been a light sleeper, though, so his midnight murmuring would often wake her up.

It was rare that she could actually make out what he said, given his bunk was nearly ten feet away and he often had his back to her. That being said, though, she couldn't help the worry that wormed its way into her soul with the words she heard just two days before:

_"I'm worried, Sis. This next one… It's… Different… Something's wrong…."_

That was the first she'd heard about any family from him or anyone. Dip and Comic never mentioned a sister around him, so she could only assume they had no knowledge of his family. Prez shook her head some at the recollection of his midnight murmurings; there were more concerning things about it.

' _Which next one? The next mission? Did he have concerns about the liberation of Prospero? Why did he think it was different? Did he-'_

Before her reverie could derail her mind even further, an otherworldly groan shook the ground beneath her. Lightning cracked across the sky outside as its deep orange hues shot through the front of the hangar and bathed her in its light. Struggling to keep her feet under her, Prez braced herself against the Grimmalkin's nose as she watched the sky turn to fire.

**"Shit."**

Her nose scrunched up as the stench of rotten eggs filled the air. Pale blue skies gave way to brilliant, blinding orange tints painting the horizon. The sounds turned into what Prez could only describe as the _earth itself screaming in pain_ as the tremors amped up. The concrete cracked and crumbled beneath her as support beams caved in on themselves, dismantling the hangar around her. Prez didn't take the time to think; she darted out of the hangar, out into the open air. Her head was already on a swivel, looking for a more secure place to shelter herself from what she had originally heard of only in whispers and history books.

Those of Sicario that were on the airfield before the Calamity began had started rushing toward the main base buildings, screaming in panic. Rushing toward whatever buildings were still structurally sound, anyway. The hangar next to Hitman's had also collapsed. Before Prez could think of her next move, another vicious quake tore across the base. Sprinting down the tarmac, she booked it toward the barracks. Barging through the main doors, Prez headed straight for the briefing room, intent on finding Kaiser.

As she made her way through the barracks, having known its layout by heart, much of Sicario's complement bustled around her in barely contained panic. Ronin's infantry members were darting back and forth between the armory and their bunkrooms; some were fully geared while others scrambled around in naught but nightclothes. Shoving her way into the briefing room, Prez saw Ronin's ever-tired requisitions officer, Legion, in a rare state of awake and alertness; though she assumed that was likely due to the panic everyone was in. She was struggling away at her laptop, likely trying to ascertain _what the_ _actual fuck_ was causing the literal hellscape outside. The fact that her screen wouldn't stop flashing and flickering likely didn't help matters.

Giving the constantly exhausted woman a soft pat on the shoulder as she passed her, Prez strode up to the tac map where Kaiser stood, analyzing its minutia as best he could. He was every bit the gruff, imposing man he sounded like over the radio, but she never let that get to her, even with everything as panicked as it was on base now.

"Lovely weather we're havin', eh Boss?"

Stone-faced, he barely nodded, maintaining his gaze on the tac map and its multiple other monitors and displays of various kinds that made Prez wonder if she was even qualified to _see_. It was pretty obvious by now, though, that this Calamity was wreaking havoc on most all electronics on base.

"Quite, Ms. Kuo. Did you manage to get Monarch's Grimmalkin functional before this struck?"

A dry laugh slipped before she could stop herself as she shook her head.

"Nah, no dice. The compressors were so mangled they weren't gonna keep up the propulsion no matter what. Would have needed to be replaced. Doesn't matter now, though. Whole damned hangar's nothin' but rubble now. Collapsed when those tremors tore through."

"And Monarch's two other spare planes were both in that hangar as well, correct?"

"Yuup. The old F/E-4 and his CR.105 were both still in there. Can't imagine they're gonna be salvageable. Suppose I'm just lucky we keep the armaments separate, else I'd be fried right now…"

By now Kaiser had turned to face her, raising a brow slightly at her last comment before he put his hands on her shoulders, meeting her eyes.

 _"_ And I speak for **all** of Sicario when I say that we're very grateful that you aren't, but we are far and away from being out of the woods yet. I received a message from a contact of mine in the Syndicate moments before the Earth herself decided to open up and reign hell down on us: Hitman team now has a bounty on their heads. They're now nearly worth more than the Cascadian National Reserve at Fort Casey."

_'What? When did the Mercenary Syndicate decide Hitman was worth more dead than alive? And why?'_

Patting her shoulders once, Kaiser then turned back to the flickering tac map.

"Since all of Monarch's spares are non-factors at this point, your task now is to grab one of Circus' ATVs and get to those hangars at the far end of runway two. If my memory serves, we had inventoried its contents a few months back. Due to Monarch's 'special' flight style, though, we hadn't had the opportunity to send down and assess the damage of the few spare fighters the Feds had left down there. I get the feeling we're going to need a few of them ready for sortie at the drop of a hat. While you're on the way there, radio in the status of both runways, then radio again once you have something combat-ready."

It was then that Legion spoke up from behind her laptop. "The one two-seater they had down there looked pretty busted up, Prez. Dunno if you can get it running in time, though if anyone can it'd be you."

Giving her boss a sharp nod and a lazy salute, she spun on a heel, calling over her shoulder, "You got it, Boss. And don't worry Liege, I'll get it up and running in no time flat."

As she reached the door to leave, Kaiser spoke up to her again, stopping her in the doorway.

"Oh and Ms. Kuo? Chin up, stay focused, and remember _who_ we are. Hitman is going to need you at your level best in the coming weeks."

"Aye aye. Will do what I can, then." It took more effort than she cared to admit to keeping her voice even as her thoughts about the situation outside ran wild, fueled by the 'what-ifs' involving Hitman's hangar.

"That is all that we can hope for. Dismissed."

Humming to herself, Prez nodded again and promptly left the briefing room and set off in a light jog to do as she was tasked. Unsurprising to her, Circus had left one of their ATVs right outside of the barracks, key still in the ignition. Without so much as a thought, she swung her leg over the seat, starting it up and motoring it steadily down the tarmac, into the grass between the runways. As she eased the quad to a speed where she could observe her surroundings safely, she stayed glancing back and forth between the runways on either side of her before picking up the radio mic from the cup holder.

"Prez to Kaiser, you hearing me alright back there, Boss?"

As expected, her boss's gruff voice responded immediately.

"Loud and clear. What's the status on those runways?"

"Number one's got some minor damage on the fringes, nothing substantial that'd prevent it from being used. Number two, though, looks like it's got a good-sized fissure about 200 yards off the threshold, so it'd need to be used with extreme caution. Short takeoffs only, I'd wager. Other than that, they're in surprisingly good shape."

"By your expertise, Crew Chief. Continue onto your other tasks. Kaiser, out."

The radio crackled and went silent again and Prez revved up the four-wheeler, zipping across the runway, careful to avoid the deep crevasse carved into it. Pulling up to the hangars that Kaiser had mentioned, she dismounted and jogged over to the man door, putting the hellscape around her out of her mind. She had work to do, after all.


End file.
